The Bryant Homestead-book

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G. P. Putnam & son, 1870 - Всего страниц: 224
 

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Стр. 101 - She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty; and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And healing sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony and shroud and pall And breathless darkness and the narrow house...
Стр. 101 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Стр. 11 - STRANGER, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature.
Стр. 144 - Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo ! all grow old and die — but see, again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms.
Стр. 25 - When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird's warble know, The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. Ere russet fields their green resume, Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare, To meet thee, when thy faint perfume Alone is in the virgin air. Of all her train, the hands of Spring First plant thee in the watery mould, And I have seen thee blossoming Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.
Стр. 160 - No, they are all unchained again: The clouds Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath, The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye; Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase The sunny ridges. Breezes of the South, Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers, And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high, Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not...
Стр. 47 - GOD might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, Without a flower at all. "We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers. The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow ; Nor doth it need the lotus-flower To make the river flow.
Стр. 182 - The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life and be no more? A happier lot than mine, and larger light, Await thee there, for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar — that fire of hell Has left its...
Стр. 80 - His youth was innocent ; his riper age, Marked with some act of goodness, every day ; And watched by eyes that loved him, calm, and sage, Faded his late declining years away. Cheerful he gave his being up, and went To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent.
Стр. 72 - THIS little rill, that from the springs Of yonder grove its current brings, Plays on the slope awhile, and then Goes prattling into groves again, Oft to its warbling waters drew My little feet, when life was new.

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